Inheritance
by puiwaihin
Summary: Harry Potter wants out from the Dursleys and needs money to achieve his independence. Does Gringotts have the answers he is looking for, or just more mystery? Warning: A bit dark. One-shot.


**Copyright Disclaimer: **_This is an original work of fanfiction, however the characters and many concepts and ideas in this work are based on characters owned by other authors. Harry Potter and all characters in this story as well as the settings used in this story are based on the works of J.K. Rowlings in her Harry Potter books and are her intellectual property._

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**Author's Note:** If you are turned off by the first few paragraphs showing a rather cliché version of Harry, keep in mind that my purpose is in part to satirize that very cliché.

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**Inheritance**

Harry Potter stood in front of the entrance to Gringotts bank, building up the courage to go in. The last time he had entered the halls of the goblin bank he had been with Hagrid. Next to the massive, but kindly man, he had felt safe and secure. Now, standing in front of the oddly bent facade of the Diagon Alley entrance to the bank, Harry felt himself small and was second guessing his purpose in returning. The large marble-like pillars that rose up from the ground led his eyes upwards.

"Strength through loyalty" the motto carved beneath the bank logo stated.

Loyalty, Harry scoffed. What loyalty had been shown to him? Dumbledore had sent him back to the Dursleys once again. The man knew, he KNEW what kind of unpleasant life he had to endure at the hands of his disgusting Muggle relatives. Harry was almost tempted to sympathize with Draco Malfoy's view of non-magicals after all the suffering he had gone through at their hands. Washing all the dishes. Cleaning the yard. To them he was just some servant to be kicked around. But in fact, he was Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World. Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort!

How could Dumbledore put him back there again even after he had told the Headmaster how he was treated? Protection from his mother? What a crock.

And his friends? They wouldn't say a word against Dumbledore. Harry shook his head to clear away some of the negativity. It was not fair to blame Ron and Hermione for not going against the Headmaster on that. They were too young to really be able to do anything anyway. Still, he knew he could not rely on them to help him.

No, if he were going to escape this miserable existence before his seventeenth birthday he was going to need to take matters into his own hands. For that, he was going to need money.

Harry stepped through the columns of the goblin bank entrance, noting once again the warning against thievery etched by the doorway. Well, he wasn't here to steal. He was just here to take what was his. He had nothing to worry about.

With a quick intake of breath, Harry stepped through the doorway, leaving the bustle of Diagon Alley behind him. On the inside, the marble entryway was as intimidating as he remembered, long, wide, and solitary. Teller counters lined each side of the hall, each with a goblin counting out gold galleons or bronze knuts, clearly engrossed in their work.

Harry walked slowly down the hall towards the front counters where Hagrid had gone the first time to conduct business. He stepped up to one waiting to be served, watching as the teller continued to count out coins. After a moment where the goblin at the counter simply ignored him, Harry spoke up with a meek "Excuse me?"

The goblin looked down at him through thick spectacles, the height of the desk putting Harry below the shorter creature's eye level. The goblin had small, beady eyes that seemed to appraise him as if he were a cut of meat being selected for cooking and thick pointed ears that jutted out from both sides of his head. The goblin's mouth opened in a semblance of a smile, revealing the cruelly sharp teeth that lined the short creature's jaws. "What can I do for you today?" the goblin asked, its voice far from the pleasantness of the words it spoke.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry replied. "I...I'd like to make a withdrawal from my vault."

The goblin leaned over and gave him a searching look that felt intimidating to the young wizard. "And do you have your key, Mister Potter?" Harry remembered Hagrid's warning about goblins: _Clever as they come, goblins, Hagrid had said, but not the friendliest of beasts_. Harry could certainly agree.^

"Uh, yeah," he said producing the key.

The goblin seemed slightly displeased at this, and leaned back behind the counter, clasping his hands together. "Very well," the goblin said. "What amount do you intend to withdraw?"

"Ten thousand galleons?" Harry requested.

The goblin looked down at a notebook in front of him, flipping through a couple pages. After a minute, the creature looked back up with an unkind expression on its face. "There is no provision in the trust account for the account holder to withdraw a sum of that amount without the approval of a guardian."

"And how much could I request then on my own?" Harry asked, a bit disappointed.

The goblin made a show of once again consulting the document on his desk before looking up. "There is provision for a yearly allotment of one hundred galleons for personal use," the goblin advised. At seeing Harry's put upon look, the goblin leaned forward once more. "There are, however, special provisions in the account that would allow for withdrawal for specific purposes. What is it you wish to withdraw the money for, Mister Potter?"

Harry shook his head in defeat. "I need to get out and live on my own," he said bitterly. "I hate it where I live."

The goblin gave a somewhat mocking smile. "Unfortunately, Mister Potter, there is no provision in the agreement for any additional withdrawal for that purpose from this vault."

Something in the goblin's tone caught Harry's attention. It was the stress that he placed on the word "this" when he spoke of vaults. It brought to mind something Ron had said one time when Draco Malfoy was lording his family's wealth over everyone.

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_"Bloody braggart, that Malfoy. Sure would be nice if one day I could have money like that. Maybe I'll find out I've inherited some long lost fortune that no wizard had thought to claim," Ron lamented. "Would be nice to find a nice fat vault of galleons just waiting just for me."_

_"Is there such a thing, Ron?" Harry asked in surprise. "Don't you think someone would have claimed any fortunes by now?"_

_"Well, Fred and George said there were long lost vaults in Gringotts that only a direct blood heir could claim. Said the goblins were sitting on loads of them. Just waiting for the last legitimate heir to die off," Ron said wistfully._

_"Well, why don't you go see for yourself?" Harry asked. "Maybe you are related to some rich relative."_

_"Come on, Harry," Ron said with a shake of a head. "I'm a Weasley. There've bound to have been plenty of relatives who already tried to claim something. And even if they hadn't, if I did find out I was an heir to some massive fortune there's no way that I'd be the one to claim it. I mean, there's me Dad and Mum. Dad's the head of house and Mum or Ginny would get anything from any matrilineal inheritances. Then there's Charlie, Bill, Percy, Fred and George to think about. Plus Mum would skin me alive if she knew I had even gone into the bank without an adult."_

_"Yeah, didn't think about that," Harry admitted._

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At the time, Harry hadn't thought about himself checking for lost inheritances. He already had the money his family had left him and hadn't imagined ever needing more. But now that he was thinking of escaping from the Dursleys and needed more money, if he were the long lost heir of some fortune that would be his ticket. Unlike Ron, he was an only child. In fact, Harry was the last Potter and his father had been an only child. The Evans family wasn't magical, but what if their ancestors were and just nobody knew about it? They might have magical ancestors with a long lost fortune! And with all the deaths in the previous wars with Voldemort and Grindelwald, and Merlin-knew how many previous wars, there were sure to be some unclaimed inheritances.

The more Harry thought about it, the more it seemed likely that he would end up with some tidy sum if he just were to enquire about it. "Um, excuse me," Harry began politely. "I just realized I don't know your name."

The goblin appeared surprised at the question. A bit warily, the goblin responded, "I am Muknail, Senior Accounts Clerk."

Harry gave the goblin a cheery smile. "Pleased to meet you, Muknail. I was hoping you could help me with something." Seeing the goblin's unkind look at being asked to "help" him, Harry continued, "Business. I still don't know much about how banking works in the Wizarding World. I figured you, being a goblin, would know loads about it."

Muknail's beady steel-grey eyes rested on Harry appraisingly. "It is a rare kind of wizard who is courteous to goblinkind, Mister Potter. Even more rare for a wizard to admit to not knowing something a goblin knows." Muknail paused before continuing in a far more respectful tone than he had before. "So tell me, Harry Potter, what would you like to know about Gringotts banking?"

"Well, you said this was my 'trust vault' we were talking about. Does that mean there is another vault belonging to the Potters that I will inherit when I become an adult that the coins in the trust vault come from? Is that how this works?"

Muknail took a surreptitious glance around the bank lobby. There were but a few witch or wizard customers at the teller counters, all preoccupied with their own business. The goblin leaned in close to Harry, speaking in a slightly hushed tone. "Banking regulations forbid the disclosure of vault information to any but the legal owner of said vault, or their executors. Even if you were listed as heir to a specific vault, you would not be the legal owner of the vault until the conditions for your inheritance were to be met, such as on the day you were to come of age, or the day you were to graduate from Hogwarts, as examples. But I could not, directly confirm or deny that such a vault did exist until that time."

Heartened, Harry stepped closer to the teller. "So, there may be a vault I might inherit later?" He paused, knowing that a future inheritance would not help him at all in his current circumstances. He had hoped the goblin would bring up the possibility of other inheritances on his own, but seeing how discrete the goblin was just speaking about a vault that he was pretty sure existed, Harry figured he'd need to bring the subject up himself. "Um, Muknail, is there any chance that there is an account I might be entitled to now? Like say from an ancestor who never had anyone able to claim their vault after their death?"

With some apparent apprehension, Muknail's head swiveled from side to side, checking to make sure no one else was listening. "What you speak of, Mister Potter, is not widely known in the Wizarding World. To continue this conversation, we would need to speak more...privately. Unfortunately, I am required to contact your guardians before engaging in any form of negotiation with you." The goblin looked down at the book in front of him. "Your human guardians, one Petunia Dursley and her spouse, or your wizard guardian, Albus Dumbledore."

"No," Harry protested. "Please, don't contact them. I don't want them to know I am here."

The goblin took a very close look at Harry. "Neither of your guardians are aware that you are at Gringotts today?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well then, I'm afraid—"

"Wait, couldn't you talk to me without a guardian present?" Harry pleaded. "I'm not asking you to break any banking rules or laws or anything, just..."

Muknail fixed Harry with a serious expression. "Do you wish to waive your right to having a guardian with you during a private negotiation?"

The young wizard hesitated for a moment before agreeing. "Yes, I want to meet with you without any of my guardians knowing." There was a small surge of magic as Harry said the words.

With a curt nod, Muknail pushed back from the counter. "Very well, Mister Potter," the goblin said as he hopped down from the high desk and another goblin appeared to take his place. "Follow me."

Harry walked behind the diminutive goblin as he headed to the back wall where a doorway led out to the tracks leading down into the vaults. Muknail gestured for the young wizard to enter a cart, which he did, and the goblin joined him. Without warning, the cart sped off, but very quickly diverted to a hidden sidetrack that Harry hadn't even realized had been there. After a few abrupt changes in direction, the cart headed straight towards what appeared to be a solid wall of rock.

"Hold on, Mister Potter," Muknail warned, just half a second before the cart plunged downward at breakneck speeds in a spiral. The cart circled downward for what must have been several minutes. Then, just as abruptly as the plummet began, it stopped, and the goblin stepped out, followed by a somewhat dizzy Harry Potter.

After Harry regained his balance, the pair walked along a narrow, winding corridor, just wide enough for three human-sized people to walk abreast. Just as Harry began to have difficulty seeing in the darkness of the walkway, Muknail pulled a thick wooden torch from the wall, which ignited on its own into an unnatural orange flame. Goblin magic. Harry followed close behind, slowly getting an unsettling feeling as he was being led further and further away from other wizards and into the darkness of the caverns below Gringotts. He soon found himself standing before a black wooden doorway. The goblin clerk walked up to the door and waved a clawed hand, at which point the door swung inwards.

Harry walked behind Muknail into a nicely appointed office. At the front was a wide desk, the perfect height for goblins. Muknail seated himself behind the desk and bade Harry take the opposite seat. "Sorry about the long trip," the clerk apologized. "My office isn't exactly the easiest to get to from the lobby."

"Oh, no problem, sir," Harry quickly answered. "Actually, I think your office is great." And it was true. It was warmly lit with piles of books and even a few paintings up on the wall. It was hardly what he had been expecting after the long trip down below.

"Once again, your politeness does you credit, Mister Potter," the goblin said with a toothy smile on its wrinkled lips that Harry tried his best not find disconcerting. "Now, Mister Potter, you wish to know if there are any vaults in Gringotts to which you might possibly be an heir?"

"Yes," Harry said with a nod. "I need access to money without having to go through my Muggle relatives or Dumbledore."

Muknail nodded in understanding before pulling out a piece of paper from his desk. "This, Mister Harry James Potter, son of James Potter," the goblin said, invoking the wizard's full name and lineage, "is a magical inheritance contract. It can grant you access to vaults of gold without the need to consult your Muggle guardians or the Headmaster. Is that what you want?"

Reaching across the desk, Harry took the contract and looked at it in confusion. It was written in some kind of strange markings he couldn't read. "Um, Muknail, I don't understand what this says."

"Of course not, Mister Potter. You're a wizard, not a goblin. Inheritance contracts are part of goblin magic." Muknail took the contract back from Harry and set it on the desk. "For the magic to work, we'll need a drop of your blood." Muknail withdrew a slender silver knife from a drawer in the desk.

Harry hesitated. "Uh, I'm not sure..."

"As I thought," Muknail muttered. "You figure you know better than goblins." Muknail took the contract back and began to stuff it back into the desk. "Waste of time bringing you all the way down here."  
"Wait," Harry said. "It's not that I think I know better than goblins, it's just…"

Muknail stared at Harry impassively while Harry tried to come up with the words to explain his hesitancy. "Well, Mister Potter?" Muknail prompted impatiently.

"Alright," Harry agreed, holding out his arm. "Go ahead and do it."

Muknail smiled, his sharp teeth looking almost predatory. Then the accounts clerk drew the knife across Harry's exposed flesh and allowed it to spill onto the parchment. There was a flash from the parchment and a small puff of smoke where the blood touched the paper. Muknail quickly pulled out a black-feathered quill and dipped the tip in Harry's blood.

"Sign here, Mister Potter, and the inheritance ritual will be complete." Harry winced at the pain in his arm, but took the quill and signed his name on the form where Muknail had indicated.

As soon as he finished signing, Harry felt something. It was a sharp, painful tug at his magic. Followed by another. Harry looked up to see Muknail smiling at the signed contract with a look of deep satisfaction.

"So," Harry asked the goblin starting to feel a bit dizzy from the affects of the ritual. "Do I have any inheritance?"

Muknail grinned widely, showing all his teeth. "Oh, yes, indeed. In fact, you now have access to every vault in all of Gringotts."

The odd feeling Harry was getting from the blood ritual wasn't going away. In fact, it was intensifying. The boy scarcely registered what Muknail had said. Every vault in Gringotts? How was that possible?

"Muknail, I'm not feeling well. Is this normal?" Harry had difficulty keeping his feet now, but when he looked at the goblin, he didn't at all like the look on its face. And then the creature began to cackle.  
Alarms went off in Harry's mind. In a haze, Harry pulled out his wand. "You tricked me!" Harry yelled. "What did you do to me? Is this some plot from Voldemort?"

Muknail stopped laughing and answered, but the sound was much rougher and harsher than before. "Oh, you don't have to worry about Tom Riddle any more. Stupid wizard filth. Now that you've gotten your Inheritance, none of that is any of your concern any more." The goblin took a step towards Harry, the silver knife still in its hand.

Harry tried to focus. He tried to pour his magic into his wand as he yelled, "_Expelliarmus_!"

His wand heated up, resisting his magic, and exploded into splinters.

Harry gawked at the sight of his now demolished wand in shock. Then he turned towards Muknail in a rage. Despite the increasing pain and the continued sense of disorientation, Harry lunged towards the goblin, hoping to wrench the knife from its hands.

But unbalanced as he was, he lunged the wrong way. Instead of the knife, he came away with the contract. Upon touching the paper, he felt a sudden surge of magic that wracked his entire body with pain so intense it brought him down to the office floor on his knees. As he sank to the floor, he was able to see the full contract and realized he could understand the language it was written in. That was when he realized that the last words Muknail had spoken to him had been in Gobbledygook.

"You lied to me!" Harry managed to accuse as his body began to convulse.

Muknail stood over the hunched form of the pitiful creature before him with a smile on his lips. With a gesture, the contract returned to his waiting hands. "Lied?" Muknail scoffed. "The contract would not have bound you if I had lied. It will do exactly what I said it would, exactly to what you agreed," he continued in Gobbledygook. "You will have access to gold and riches without need of any of your _former_ guardians.

Harry tried to yell at Muknail, or perhaps scream for help, but instead he began to choke and spit. He looked down in horror as he saw is teeth on the floor in a bloody mess. He tried to crawl, but the pain in his bones was too great. Instead, all he could do was watch as his fingernails peeled off. Harry felt his entire body twisting within itself. His skin was already turning clammy and yellow. Bits of his hair were already beginning to fall from his head. Again, Harry tried to yell out, but his voice emerged as nothing but a hoarse rasp.

Muknail grinned toothily. "Don't worry. You'll grow new teeth over the next few years. And your claws will come in soon after that. In months nobody you know would recognize you as a being a filthy wizard. In a few years, you won't even remember having been a wizard, at least, not with any fondness."

Muknail walked over to where the creature who was once the Boy-Who-Lived sobbed on the office floor. "Welcome to Gringotts, Goblin Harpot. Welcome to Gringotts."

**_End_**

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_^from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (film)_


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